My Chemical Rammance

*
"DAAAAAAYUM!" Ray and Mikey said in unison. Their voices raised about eight octaves.

"You just got knocked the fuck out, Gee!" Mikey cried.

"You think he doesn't know that? AH! That sucka got hit so hard that I felt it!" Ray added. Richard sat back in his seat nonchalantly. He grumbled something to Till in German. Paul felt a little bad for the other band. His friends were being so mean to them just because they weren't having a good day. Richard had no right. None of them did. He could tell that the other band was trying their best to get along. Paul scanned the man. He didn't quite look like he was breathing.

"Did I kill him?" Richard asked.

"No....I think he's still breathing," Paul answered.

"Dammit...." Richard said under his breath. Paul reached out a finger and poked Gerard in the stomach. He giggled like the dough boy and put a hand to his aching face. "What hit me? A friggin steam roller? No. It was heavier....it must have been Bob," Gerard cracked. Bob's head perked up from the back.

"HEY!" He shouted.

"So what's with you guys? Do you like....hate America or something?" Ray suddenly asked.

"It's not one of our favorite places..." Till replied.

"We don't hate America. Don't assume that we hate Americans. We just hate you," Flake shouted from the bathroom. Paul bent beside him and placed his can of Cola against his face. Richard was rather heavy handed. He must have been in a lot of pain. "Poor thing....you're not hurt too badly, are you? You were only unconscious for a few moments. You recovered almost instantly! Amazing. Look, I don't have any ice, so you can just press this against your face for a while. I'm Paul. Please, my friends aren't always like this. Forgive them for now, okay?" Paul said, his voice dripping with honey. Gerard stared at the man. He was cute....you know, for a man. His dark hair was brushed back with strands of hair falling over his forehead. His left ear was pierced and he had silver eye shadow on.

"What are you staring at? Do I look strange? Well, we do have a gig tonight....and.....I wanted to be a little prepared before we got there. Please stop staring. It's rude," Paul said uncomfortably. Gerard laughed.

"You don't look strange. Actually, you look kind of nice. Thanks for the cola," he said cheerfully. Christoph could feel his cheeks burning with envy. He grabbed Paul by the shoulders and pulled him into his arms, glaring at Gerard. The rest of the ride went on in silence. Christoph, as possessive as he was, kept Paul from collaborating with Gerard. Richard was brooding. Till was aggravated and Flake hadn't come out of the bathroom for almost an hour.

"What happened to Flake? Did he fall in the toilet or so'em?" Till inquired.

"Leave me alone," Flake called from the bathroom. "I'm not coming out until this bus stops."
This was obviously Flake's way of distancing himself from the nonsense. Gerard wanted to talk with that pretty guy again. He was nice to him. Gerard liked that. Everyone seemed to be excruciatingly bored. Ray and Mikey were in the back playing "Go fish," but they didn't have any cards.

"Got any threes?" Mikey asked.

"Nope. Go fish."

"THAT'S A GOD DAMNED LIE!" Mikey fumed. "You have a three!"

"Prove it! YOU can't see it! I know what's in my deck!!!" Ray protested. A loud bang came from the back of the bus. Till looked around as the bus came to a sudden hault. "What's going on?" He asked the driver.

"I....I'm not sure," he said while climbing out the door. Richard stuck his head out of the window to hear the man say, "The gas tank is empty. I just filled it up before we left!" Richard pulled the cigarette he was smoking out of his mouth and threw it behind the bus. A blazing trail flew across the road. "There's your problem. Gas leak...."

Gerard patted Richard on the back. "That was cool!"
Richard's eye twitched. Gerard knew when he wasn't wanted. He took a seat next to Paul. Christoph scowled at him and kicked him out of the seat. Gerard knew when he wasn't wanted. He took a seat next to Till......well, actually, he just THOUGHT about taking a seat next to Till. Flake came out of the bathroom.

"Are we here?" He asked.

"Bus broke down," Frank told him.

Flake retreated back into the bathroom.

"Fellas, we're in the middle of nowhere. There's probably no auto repair shops for miles. No gas stations. Nothing. You all have cell phones, right?" He asked. Flake popped out of the bathroom with a pang of guilt on his face.

"Uhh.....yeahh.....you see, I was fumbling around and I just might have....accidentally.....dropped Christoph's drum seat on our bag of electronics." Flake shrugged and closed the door again. Christoph banged his head against the window while Paul tried to comfort him. Gerard put his hand in the air. "HEY! Don't worry! I have a cell phone!"

Everyone on the bus cheered for him. It seems as if Gerard was about to redeem himself. Maybe it would settle things between both bands. "Oops......son of a bitch......my battery's dead....."

Frank didn't know what was going to happen the rest of the day. But whatever the outcome....it was gonna suck.

*
Standing outside of the tour bus, Frank took out a Marlboro, and just stared at it. “Hm,” he began his thoughts aloud. “If I smoke you, then I’ll definitely be zen… But I’ve been trying to stay off you guys for at least a week…” Frank broke off and then just shrugged. He grasped the cigarette as if it were some golden treasure that would save him from his emptiness.
Fumbling around in his pocket for a lighter, Frank came to the austere realization that he didn’t have one. That’s when he felt his heart sink to his stomach. “Shit…” he stated briefly, his eyes fogging up.
“Pansies smoke?” rang a familiar and deterring voice. Frank jumped at the sound of Richard’s voice and turned to see him with a coercing grin about his profile.
“What do you want?” asked Frank hoarsely. Richard strolled over to Frank heedlessly. “Marlboros, huh? How American… it seems you’re missing a lighter though, hm?” Frank didn’t answer that question and or criticism – he simply gaped at Richard.
“I have a question,” began Richard, his eyes steady on Frank. Frank grimaced as a nervous twinge came about him, but he simply nodded in agreement. “Why did you put ‘Pansy’ on your guitar?”
Frank paused momentarily, but then answered with a listless tone. “When I was in junior high, I went to a Catholic school…. And when I was there, all of my class used to call me ‘pansy.’ So when I took up music, I put that on my guitar.”
Richard finished lighting another cigarette and handed it to Frank. “Straight from Germany – you’ll like it.” Frank flushed and then took the cigarette from his hand. Puffing with little exaggeration, Frank choked a bit.
“Strong, isn’t it?” leered Richard, his eyes bright and feverish. “But I’m sure you’ll get use to it….” Richard shook his head as if he had a conundrum set before him.
“One more thing, Frank – why would you put that on you guitar if you hated being called it?”
Frank just sent Richard an infuriated glance. “Why are you asking me this?” Richard moved closer to Frank, in fact, a little too close. Feeling threatened, Frank put his fists into defense mode. Richard simply snorted at his attempt to shield himself.
“Relax, pretty boy… I’m just trying to get know you. Now answer me.”
Frank put his fists down, but ceased a comeback – his gaze was searching Richard’s for an answer that wouldn’t come effortlessly.
“I – I did it because I wanted to show the world that it was okay to be – ”
“A pansy?” interposed Richard, a sly grin fixed on his face.
Frank just nodded and then replied, “Yes.”
Richard began to snicker and walked toward Frank his large outstretched hand giving way. “Why didn’t you help your little friend back there? That…. Jared? Gerald? Gerard! Gerard. Why didn’t you help him get back on his feet? You just stood there – your expression with little dismay… I thought you two were an item.”
Frank turned his head and shut his eyes, his thoughts racing. Why does this freak keep asking me such weird questions? he thought pensively. Frank finally gave Richard a fleeting glimpse up, and beamed. This befuddled Richard, and his smile faded.
“We were. But not anymore… He has someone else now, or so I believe. I just look after him, because he was my first friend. I guess you could say I’m just attached to him – he was always there for me, and such…” Frank trailed off but Richard’s smile returned.
“How touching,” he mused, his eyes observing Frank’s femininely inclined position. “I think that Gerald – or Gerard, is a fool. I can’t see why you care about him, Frank the Peculiar Pansy.”
Frank just shot Richard a daunting glare, but something about his glare told Richard he was slightly in awe of his character. Richard began to saunter off. “Enjoy that cig,” he called, waving adieu.
Frank just blinked, tilted his head, and began to smoke again – but this time, he felt a little better about that atypical man.